Taking Care of Kate
by The Keddster
Summary: Kate Beckett has had a rough week and Castle has plans to "take care of her". Just a random, fluffy/smutty one-shot.


**A/N: Just a little something that came into my head - fluff/smut for the sake of it. Not inspired by a particular event or episode, other than the existence of Caskett.**

Disclaimer: I love 'em, but don't own 'em.

Taking Care of Kate

The room is warm, warmer than usual because the air-conditioning has been turned up a couple of degrees, but despite this, Kate feels herself shiver. It's a delicious, visceral reaction, not to the temperature of her environment, but an involuntary response to the masculine presence in the room, an almost primal reflex. Because when it comes to Richard Castle, Kate Beckett is often reduced to her baser instincts.

The way he looks at her, touches her, the smell of him, just his physicality elicits reactions in her that surprise, delight and occasionally terrify her, although the latter happens less often these days. He can elevate her vital signs with one look, turn her to a puddle with a solitary touch, and just his presence can ignite the ever-smouldering embers of her desire.

Today she is especially grateful for the distraction these reactions are creating because the past week has been difficult; a gut-wrenching, stressful and exhausting case involving the death of a very young child at the hands of his parents and Kate just wants to forget, at least for a little while. Castle was essentially out of the precinct for most of the week with a number of Black Pawn commitments and a speaking engagement at a workshop for young writers, so this afternoon, having been spared the more graphic details of the case and the physical confrontation involved in the arrest, Castle is determined to do something, _anything_ to make her feel better.

However, after four years by her side he has learned that with someone as independent as his fierce, dedicated detective, _taking care of her _has to be an exercise in subtlety, an almost covert operation because Kate Beckett, despite trying very hard to change, is still not entirely comfortable with being taken care of. So Castle has ordered her to _relax, _and has big plans to assist with said _relaxation._

Right now, his plan is working because she _is_ starting to feel relaxed, but there is also an added element; anticipation, and it has her pleasantly on edge. In fact, her body is positively thrumming with it because she is face down on his bed, almost naked and _waiting; _so when he steps close to the bed, entering her peripheral vision and looking sexy as hell in nothing but long, low-slung pyjama pants, she shivers again_._

"Are you cold?"

"No."

"You're shivering."

"Not cold, Castle," she says, her voice husky and the tone must convince him because there's a slight hitch in _his_ breathing, understanding suddenly dawning. She's not _cold; _she is shivering with expectation and maybe a little impatience, and he can't help smiling.

"Comfy?" Castle asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he sits down beside her and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her face is turned towards him, green eyes blinking slowly, her forehead still slightly creased with the worries of the day.

"Yep," she replies, allowing her eyes to flutter closed when he smoothes her furrowed brow with his thumb.

"Ready?"

"Hmmm."

"Okay, but just let me…" Castle's voice trails off as he begins to gather her hair into a loose ponytail.

Kate sighs softly as his fingers brush not only her scalp, but her neck and shoulders too, smiling as he expertly secures the strands; he _is_ the single father of a long-locked daughter after all.

His touch is gentle, light enough to tickle, and she is _incredibly_ ticklish; a fact that Castle discovered on their very first night together and has used to his advantage on more than one occasion since. More often than not however, he tickles her simply to experience the joy of hearing her laugh, but there's no tickling now; his fingers are on another mission entirely.

Kate allows her eyes to drift completely closed as he shifts on the bed, his weight evenly distributed on the mattress when he settles his knees on either side of her hips. She hears him rubbing his hands together at the same instant the room fills with a pleasant, heady aroma and she recognises some of the components; patchouli and ylang ylang, but there's something else, and whatever it is, she loves it, especially when the source of the wonderful scent, along with a pair of large, warm palms make contact with the bare skin of her upper back.

A long, satisfied sigh escapes and she suspects it might be the first of many if he keeps this up because _wow,_ it feels amazing. There isn't a single inch of her body that Castle hasn't previously caressed, explored or memorised, with his hands, his eyes, his mouth, but this is completely different. His long, talented, oil-covered fingers are stroking and kneading the tension from her tight, aching muscles and it feels like heaven.

_God, his fingers, the magic they have created in the last few months, _Kate muses as his thumbs press firmly into the knots at the base of her neck. They have teased her, worked her up to some pretty dizzying heights, taken her powerfully over the edge and gently coaxed her down into a state of blissful satisfaction, but never have they created anything like she's feeling now.

Kate completely gives herself over to him, her body limp and heavy under his touch as the hands that spend so much time dancing over a keyboard creating magic with words, now roam the length of her back, kneading, caressing, soothing; casting a completely different magic spell.

As he sits astride her lower thighs, his strong, nimble fingers, huge palms and powerful thumbs work their way from her neck and shoulders, slowly along the bony protrusions of her spine, over and into every knot, every tense or tender muscle, along the soft curve of her waist and onto the crest of each hip. The warm, slippery glide of his fingers is creating two seemingly opposing sensations that theoretically should be unable to coexist. His touch is relaxing her to the point of drowsiness, while simultaneously setting fire to every nerve ending in her body.

It's while she is silently basking in the contradictory bliss of his touch that his hands briefly leave her and it's all she can do not to verbally protest at the loss of contact. But once he has replenished the massage oil, his hands begin a welcome assault in her lower back, massaging and manipulating away the last vestiges of tension and discomfort.

"You aren't asleep are you?" Castle whispers.

"Like I'm going to miss a single second of this by falling asleep," Kate chuckles softly. "Not a chance."

"So you like it then?"

"Mmm. Love it," she hums.

"So I should keep going?"

"If you stop, I'll injure you."

"Noted," Castle laughs before running his thumbs around her tailbone, firmly along either side of her spine, under the bottom edge of each scapula, up the column of her neck until finally reaching the base of her skull. He is rewarded with a sound from her that is something akin to a moan.

The sound is not unfamiliar, in fact it bears striking similarities to noises she frequently utters under his touch; touches of a more intimate nature and for the first time since he straddled an almost nude Kate Beckett, Castle feels the fist of desire tighten low in his belly and senses a stirring in a region lower still. He's a man after all, and she is semi-naked, flawless, pliant and _his, _and it steals his breath. This started honourably, his intentions completely selfless, his plan to simply spoil her, cherish her, _soothe_ her, but testosterone is a powerful hormone and the overstimulation of his visual, tactile and olfactory senses has caused his levels to surge dramatically.

Kate huffs a soft protest and he realises his hands have stilled while his mind wandered, and he silently admonishes his sudden inability to multi-task. He softly croaks an apology as his fingers resume their ministrations, this time travelling slowly down the smooth expanse of her back, his touch softer now, gently-soothing rather than remedial and it is fanning the flames of their seemingly endless need for each other.

The physical signs of Kate's escalating desire are subtle, but Castle is so in tune with her, with her body's reactions to him that he picks up on the signals immediately; the slight increase in her respiratory rate, the occasional almost imperceptible shudder as she inhales, the gentle flush of her skin and the intermittent clench of her jaw and fingertips when he reaches a particularly sensitive spot. He can no more control the self-satisfied grin that turns the corners of his mouth upwards than he can halt the sudden rush of blood that heads _downward_ when she moans loudly; _God he wants to touch her, really touch her._

As his hands slow, his fingertips begin drawing random shapes and letters on her skin and once again, Kate shivers. The reaction is sudden and short-lived, but when he lowers his mouth to the middle of her back, kissing the lowest point along the gentle curve of her spine, her shiver morphs into gentle but obvious trembling. He watches in rapt fascination as the warm pressure of his lips, followed by the teasing swipe of his tongue causes an eruption of gooseflesh on her skin. He butterfly kisses his way up over each vertebra, and as his lips brush softly over her skin, so does his nose and he breathes her on; the deep, rich scent of the massage oil combined with the familiar, completely unique 'eau de Kate' is as arousing as it is intoxicating and he wants more.

Kate gasps softly when the barely-there pressure of his mouth amps up a notch and he latches firmly onto the side of her neck. Kate can't help but chuckle, "Is this part of the massage service? Because I think you missed a spot."

"Oh, never fear my dear detective, I miss _nothing. _I'm only just getting started on your _spots."_

The timbre of his voice alone is enough to elicit another shudder from her, his tone deep and full of lust, and when he tugs at her panties, the only clothing adorning her body, she is expecting a barrage of kisses and increasingly intimate touches, but apparently Castle has other plans.

He moves his body away from her until he is completely upright again and shifts back towards the foot of the bed, dragging the scrap of fabric all the way off. Again he takes the massage oil but this time he tips the bottle so that the contents dribble along the entire length of both her legs, over the soft and now bare flesh of her butt, and into the hollow of her back. When she shivers again it is definitely temperature-related because unlike when he warmed the oil with his hands, the liquid directly from the bottle is cool against her overheated skin.

The sensation is short-lived however, because his warm hands immediately begin following an identical path to the oil, starting at her ankles. He gently rubs the fragrant liquid into her lower legs, his fingers both caressing and kneading her flesh until the oil is absorbed, and then his hands move higher. The backs of her knees and thighs are next to receive attention, his touch completely chaste at first as his palms and thumbs move in firm circular motions. But as the last traces of oil disappear he allows his fingertips to drift upwards, feathering along her inner thighs, gently coaxing her legs apart.

Kate gasps softly as the barest hint of contact registers against the highly sensitised flesh at the apex of her legs, but it's only a ghost of a touch, real but fleeting before his hands continue their journey up her body. The skin of her butt cheeks, her hips, waist and arms all receive glorious, loving attention, but he is no longer pretending that these latest touches have anything to do with _massage. _They are nothing more than wonderful, oily, heavenly-scented caresses and she doesn't want him to stop.

Castle is completely absorbed in the moment; the sight of her sprawled naked on his bed, the contrast of her pale skin against the deep coffee-colour of his sheets, the feel of that wonderfully soft skin under his fingertips, the ripple of her toned muscles under his palms and the sound of that delicious little gasp she made when his fingertips barely grazed her centre. He may have succeeded earlier, with his goal to relax and sooth her, but now, now he has her all worked up and the only thing in the room more tightly wound than her is _him._

Unable and unwilling to resist any longer, he kisses his way down the entire length of her body and this time the kisses are warm, wet and lingering; all the way to the tip of one painted toenail. Their pulses are racing and their breaths are coming in rough pants, but when he begins kissing his way up the inside of her other leg while his hand mimics the path of his mouth, Kate actually holds her breath. When his fingers finally make contact with her aching centre, she is certain her heart misses a beat or two.

Kate turns her head to look back at him and their gazes lock as he leans over her, his head lowering, their lips meeting. It's an awkward position but the kiss is hot, a passionate melding of soft eager lips and warm seeking tongues.

"This isn't the way this was supposed to end," Castle breathes raggedly against her pliant, receptive mouth.

"Your hands are all over me Castle, did you really think it would end any other way?" Kate chuckles knowingly. "We barely have to look at each other and we end up in bed. Naked skin, massage oil, hands; yeah, that was gonna end with a chaste kiss goodnight after we donned our flannel 'jammies'."

"But I just wanted to make you feel good, take _care_ of you," he admits. "Not work us both into a frenzy."

"I don't know about you Rick, but right now, I'm feeling pretty good. And if that's what I think it is pressing into my back, I'm positive you are more than ready to _take care of me._"

Castle stretches out beside her then and Kate rolls to her side so they are chest to chest. He can see that her face has softened, her forehead has lost its furrowed, worried frown and the troubled look in her beautiful eyes has been replaced by… well… by lust. He'd been aiming for calm, but hey, lust works too.

Their lips meet again and it's gentle and slow at first, a thorough, languid exploration, mouths giving and seeking pleasure, hands gently caressing passion-flushed cheeks. However, once hands and mouths begin to drift across shoulders, nipples, bellies, the gentle flames of their desire are fanned into an inferno of overheated hypersensitive skin, screaming nerve endings and raw, almost primal hunger.

Often when they reach this point, Kate will take the lead, straddle him and set the pace. He loves that take-charge, kick-ass side to her, especially in bed, but this time, that's not what she wants, not what she needs. Castle somehow instinctively knows that today she has left kick-ass Beckett at work, probably hovering protectively over the ghost of a murdered little boy, and as he rolls her onto her back, pressing her gently into the mattress they exchange knowing looks. He can see the '_I need you'_ in her eyes, completely separate from the passion he can also see burning there, while she can see the '_let me love you_' that shines brighter than the predatory, lustful look in _his_ eyes.

He brushes aside the oily tendrils of hair that are sticking stubbornly to her face and kisses her. It's long and deep, taking her breath away and it doesn't matter how many times they kiss like this, it always steals her breath because she loves him; and she chooses this moment to tell him. She hasn't said it out loud before, has been too scared to and now, suddenly her fear and hesitation seem ridiculous.

"I love you," she whispers breathlessly and as the words leave her mouth she realises that telling him she loves him is going to be just like kissing him, like making love to him… now that she's done it, she's never going to be able to stop.

Castle's eyes widen at her words and seconds later an awestruck smile breaks out across his face. He can't speak, can't find even a single word so he does the only thing his mouth is currently capable of doing; he kisses her, hard, fast and thoroughly and Kate responds immediately. Her arms wrap tightly around him, her body arches against him and her tongue delves deeply into the warm recesses of his mouth.

"Pants," she eventually utters, impatient now, but before Castle can react she is shoving his pyjama pants down his legs and once they are out of arm's reach she pushes them the rest of the way off with her feet.

"_Impressive_." Castle chuckles. "And kinda hot."

"Yeah well, now it's your turn to _impress_ me."

Castle nips and kisses a trail down the front of her body, no teasing, no slow torture, just warm wet contact across her breasts, her belly and ultimately where she craves it most. As he laves the most intimate of attention on her with his lips and tongue she allows herself to be completely overcome by sensation because his mouth and _oh yeah,_ his hands are on her, and when he slides his fingers inside her she arches off the bed, into his touch and moans his name.

He feels her muscles clench and tighten around his fingers and he steadies his touch, matches the rhythm of his fingers with that of his tongue as he flattens it against her, circling her clit and in less than a minute she's coming undone, quick, loud and powerfully. She has her eyes screwed shut, her mouth slightly open as Castle quickly kisses his way back up her body and she drowsily meets his gaze when he settles his hips in the cradle of hers.

"You look a little love-drunk," he whispers against her cheek, his breath warmly caressing her face. "Want me to wait a second?"

"No," she rasps softly and rocks her hips against his. She wants him now, wants to feel his weight pressing her into the bed, wants to feel the muscles of his back under her hands as they ripple and strain, but most of all she wants to feel him inside her; hot, hard, and all hers.

He answers her movement with a subtle tilt of his pelvis and then he's inside her, thrusting slowly. Castle savours the first two or three movements because _every_ single time since that first crazy night, as her tight but willing body yields to his, she makes a barely perceptible sound, a tiny breathy gasp and God, he loves it.

They are both lost then, nothing else exists but them and this moment. Their bodies, mouths and hands are joined and as they fight the almost overwhelming urge to allow their eyes to drift closed, their gazes lock and their connection is complete. They move in perfect synchrony, Kate wrapping her legs around his hips in a possessive move to tether him to her, draw him in, and Castle elevating his upper body so his lower half sinks deeper and so he can watch her.

As their tempo increases their oily, sweat-slick bodies glide freely, while their hands grip tightly and as Kate feels the heated tension coiling low she whimpers and lifts her head, her mouth eagerly seeking his. When their lips meet he thrusts his tongue roughly into her mouth, matching the movement with a sharp thrust of his hips and when he repeats the move she is suddenly hurtling over the edge, coming powerfully and unexpectedly and Castle swallows the half sob, half moan that surprises them both.

The ferocity of her climax brings Castle completely undone and as the last quivering moments of it give way to breathless, sated bliss he comes hard, harder than he did that first night, or any time since.

He collapses face down on the mattress next to her, boneless, breathless and trembling and when the synapses in his brain actually start firing again, he turns his head toward her, smiling dopily. Kate grins back at him, her body slightly more capable of purposeful movement than his and she rolls to her side, facing him.

"Just when I think we can't get any better at this, we go and do _that,_" Castle whispers.

"Yep, you give one hell of a massage Mr Castle."

"Nimble fingers," he jokes, turning to face her and wriggling all ten digits in the air before reaching behind her and running said fingers slowly up and down the length of her spine.

She settles contentedly into his touch and sighs, "_Magic_ fingers."

He watches as her eyes drift closed and he thinks she's floating towards sleep, but then she looks at him, presses a finger against his kiss-swollen lips and adds… "Magic mouth."

She often utters completely unfiltered, sometimes dirty comments in her drowsy post-coital haze and he loves this unguarded version of her. He is chuckling softly at her sleepy musings when he notices her gaze drifting down his body, and when she leans in and replaces her finger with her mouth, her hand reaches down to stroke him, "And let's not forget your magic… _wand._"

"Kate Beckett, that is one of the funniest, dirtiest things you've ever said to me," he laughs, before gently kissing her back. "I love you."

"Love you too," she mumbles sleepily and wriggles closer, eliciting another smile from Castle because now he's getting his other favourite version of her; sleepy, snuggly Kate.

He draws her completely against him as he feels his own eyelids grow heavy, entwining his legs with hers and kissing the top of her head as he lets sleep take him.

**Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it and I'd be grateful for any feedback :-)**


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